Installation Instructions

Insert disc. Then put it in your computer. It will start automatically; after a few seconds an icon will appear. It is an icon of Christ, with a CD as a halo behind his head. Click on this icon with your mouse, or other rodent. The icon will oscillate, then shake rapidly and terrifyingly and then explode in a beautiful shower of fireworks. As the sparks drift away (you can speed this up using the breeze from your desk fan), a window will appear onscreen. In the window you will see a wizard. The caption should say 'installation wizard'. If it does not you should type 'installation wizard'.
Press 'Alt Gr'. When the alternative growling has finished, the wizard will open the window and lean out. Click once on his pointy hat and twice on his wand. He will take off his hat and pull out a rabbit. Click on the wizard's hat again and a carrot will appear at the top right of the screen. Click on this and drag towards the rabbit. The rabbit will eat the carrot, then bound off screen, leaving a little trail of footprints. Sweep the footprints up and put in the recycle bin. Close the lid (you may need to click a couple of times on the little foot pedal as the lid is sometimes a little stiff). Your computer will restart. You have now installed your new PC Programme. If you wish to upgrade your programme to sargeant or superintendant please visit our on-site website.

Gentleman's Nutty Relish

I am a jolly wearer of a hazelnut moustachio
My eyebrows are quite highbrow, made of finest green pistachio
My hair is tight-curled ringlets of sweet honey-nutted cheerios
I'm not fruity - I'm a truly nutty man!

My arms are dark and wrinkly like the outside of a walnut shell
My legs are brown and nutty like those tasty hard nuts from Brazil
My face has all the smell and taste of chestnuts that the roasters sell
I say sir, I'm a truly nutty man!

Mysteries

A long time ago a nice man called Jesus was crucified and then rose from the dead. He then ascended into Heaven (not the gay nightclub).

Or did he?

He might have in fact fled to France with some disciples and perhaps even with a ladyfriend. After all, a lot of people do retire to Southern France, as it's rather nice.

I suppose we will never know for sure. It will remain a mystery, just like these other mysteries:

• why do Subway sandwiches never taste of anything, no matter how many ingredients you put in?
• why is the news always bad? (except for Jesus's news, I hear, although he hasn't told me what it is)
• are there more grains of sand in the world than there are stars in the universe, or is it exactly the same number?
• why do cats suddenly appear, every time you are near, you batty old lady?
• if Vladimir Putin was a pudding, which one would he like to be?
• where do they find the tiny men to drive Micro Machines (TM) out of the tiny factory? do the tiny men come in collections of five too?

These conundra puzzle me, as do many more, but most of them are rude so I'm not telling you about them here.

Joke

Today I discovered a joke on the internet.
http://myspacetv.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=7412567

Polymathematics

A friend recently pointed out that I am a polymath. At first I took this as a compliment, and humbly thanked (and agreed) with him.

However, it occured to me that in a developed economy such as ours, a polymath is not a good thing to be. It is far more economically useful to be expert at one very specific role and know nothing else, than to be jack of all trades and master of none. It is often not sufficient or useful to have a degree of knowledge and ability in many different fields.

So what do we do with all the polymaths that we can't find a niche for?

If you have a polymath lying round, here are some ideas you could try:

• use it as a scarecrow
• breed it with other polymaths, and attempt to breed some specialisms into the line
• use it as a mannequin to try out different clothing combinations
• release it into the wild to establish new civilisations from scratch
• have drunk conversations with it
• collect a few polymaths and make a nice arrangement for your coffee table
• give one thousand polymaths one thousand typewriters and see how long it takes before one writes a play about monkeys
• redecorate your polymath to give it a new lease of life and sell it at profit
• eat it in a casserole or stew. Yum!

The Flag of the Masons

I noticed this afternoon that the flag is flying from the roof of the Freemason's Temple.
I wonder what arcane ceremony might be taking place...

(A darkened room. One can barely see the high ceiling in the flickering candlelight. In the middle of the room, a circle of elderly men in suits, covered with crimson cloaks, move slowly in a circle, now crouching low, now raising their arms in the air, chanting):

The Masons, the Masons,
They're washing up in basins!
Remove their socks, put in a box
And call each other Jason!
They're spinning round and wearing scarves
And cutting muffins into halves
And when they're almost going to starve
Stuff muffins in their faces!

The Masons, the Masons,
When the feeling takes 'em
They dance around
And make a sound
Like crazed and horny bisons!
The Masons in their masks and gloves
The Masons chant a song of love
With stamping feet and shout above
Pray to their lord James Mason!

(Chanting continues. One of the men gets tired and has to have a sit down and a biscuit. We lose interest and move on...)

Another salesman

It was a chilly but clear mid-November morning as I walked over Waterloo bridge in the sunshine. As you cross the bridge, you get the best views over London, from the magnificent houses of parliament in the West, past the Gothamesque offices that line the river, Somerset House, St Pauls, away to the Gherkin and the city in the East with docklands in the distance. The skyline was punctuated by cranes, preparing each new building to pop up like a jack-in-the-box among the ancient and modern buildings of the thriving city.

Walking up Kingsway I watched a man in a people carrier perform a six point turn in the rush hour traffic, the drivers of the 59 and 168 hooting at him with their big bus foghorns. Then something unusual happened. I was just leaving Boots, where I had popped in to get some bonjela for my aching gums, when I was approached by a man who was not actually there; at least, he wasn't subject to the same space/time matrix that I was.

He told me he had come from Heaven to tell people about a new digital service offered by God. If I signed up I would be able to download visions, prophecies, prayers and, coming shortly, Godcasts. All I would need to do was to purchase a GodPod.

It would only be available metaphysically, so the price was quoted in good deeds rather than pounds sterling. And because it was a metaphysical device, I wouldn't have to worry about where to keep it, as it has a little clip I could use to attach it to my soul. It even came with a one year warranty covering faults, accidental damage, and theft by demonic entities (which can be a problem with metaphysical luxury goods).

I told him that yes, it sounded very interesting; I would certainly have a think about it, but I wouldn't sign up now, thanks. And I went on my way.